


sacrifice (and other necessary evils)

by justromandaydreams



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eating Disorders, He'll be fine I promise, M/M, Protect Charles from himself please
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:50:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22565245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justromandaydreams/pseuds/justromandaydreams
Summary: Most drivers pack on a few pounds over break, though they were quickly shed by Melbourne. Charles on the other hand, appeared to have done the opposite.Success requires sacrifice, that's what Charles always tells him. Daniel's just scared his boyfriend may have lost himself along the way.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Daniel Ricciardo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

Daniel and Charles are at dinner, the two of them tucked away in a discreet corner of the Monaco restaurant. Daniel had just returned from Australia. The Renault driver had dropped his bags at Charles’ flat, declared himself on the brink of starvation, and now here they were less than an hour later. 

“I wish I could eat like you”

Charles stares enviously at Daniel’s beef and noodles, the dish topped in a rich sauce.

Daniel frowns slightly, noticing the way Charles was picking at his salad, dressing sitting unused on the side. 

“You can. It’s winter break. Live a little!”

Charles shrugs noncommittally. “I drank too much on New Years.”

“That was four days ago.” 

Most drivers packed on a few pounds over break, though they were quickly shed by testing, at the latest, Melbourne. Charles on the other hand, appeared to have done the opposite.

Daniel had noticed Charles’ cheekbones in the Richard Mille shoot, but in person paired with under eye circles, they were somehow even sharper. Perhaps it was the ever so slightly sunken cheeks which he’d hoped had just been a trick of the light. 

**************

He tries to dismiss his concerns when he has Charles splayed out underneath him. The young drivers torso lean but muscular. He pauses a moment to take in the sight. “Bloody hell, you’re fuckin gorgeous” 

Charles squirms uncomfortably at the comment. He doesn’t feel gorgeous. He feels self-conscious. Daniel was tan and not an inch of him wasn’t toned to perfection. He felt pale and weak compared to his partner. He’s not a fool. He knows the type of people, guys and girls alike, that throw themselves at the Australian. Charles curses himself for breaking down and eating some of Daniel’s noodles earlier. “Get on with it. I don’t have all night,” he teases. Of course he was joking. Daniel’s visit had been in his calendar for weeks. 

“Mmmm. Bossy tonight are we” Daniel clamps one hand onto Charles hip, using the other to pin Charles down by pulling his hair. “Let’s put that smart ass mouth of yours to better use” 

Charles keened, clearly relishing in the tenuous threshold between pain and pleasure. He arches up under Daniel’s grip, his collarbone so defined the Australian thinks he could reach out and grab it. Daniel tries to banish the thought from his mind and allow himself to get lost in the pleasure. But between thrusts he can’t help but notice the sharp elbows and worry about the bruises he was leaving on delicate, bony hips. 

**************

The rest of Daniel’s visit he can’t get the nagging feeling of worry out of his mind. Andrea was on holiday so nobody was holding Charles accountable for his diet as was clear when Daniel opened Charles fridge to find carrots, celery, fruit, and a half carton of eggs. Daniel plopped a plate of eggs and a bowl of blueberries down in front of Charles when the Monegasque eventually wanders into the kitchen, trainers in hand. 

“Nope.” Daniel snatches the shoes from Charles. “Eat breakfast, and then we’re going grocery shopping. You couldn’t feed a rabbit with what’s in this apartment”

Charles opens his mouth to argue but what was cut off by his own stomach growling. Frowning and feeling betrayed by his own body, he sinks down into the chair and fiddled with the fork, taking bites intermittently. 

Daniel feels convinced that he’d won the argument. He allows Charles to sit and push around the eggs on his plate for a while. Eventually his boyfriend eats most of the blueberries and around half of the eggs. Daniel is satisfied and tries not to think about what the Monegasque would have done if he hadn’t been there. 

The first thing Daniel grabs was a loaf of bread when they entered the store. Which Charles promptly returns to the shelf. Daniel sighs. This was clearly going to be a longer trip than anticipated.

Charles tries to hide his careful examination of the nutrition labels on the back of the soup and yoghurt containers Daniel placed in the cart, but the Australian catches on quickly. He didn’t raise too much of a fuss though, because unlike the bread, Charles replaces them with different brands or varieties. Daniel could see the 80 calories a cup and only 2 grams of sugar labels splashed across Charles choices. Personally he didn’t think they would taste that good but anything was better than the empty fridge he’d been greeted with in the morning. Charles continues to add a few more items to their growing cart after his careful inspections of the labels.

Charles clearly seems more at ease in the produce section. A nasty voice in the back of Daniel’s head tells him it’s because there are no nutrition labels and half of what Charles picked out is 90% water. Their cart quickly fills with peppers, tomatoes, asparagus, and a variety of fruit. 

Daniel grabbed a few packages of chicken breasts and brown rice and a carton of eggs, which Charles approved. Hel eyes a block of Gouda but decided not to fight that battle today. 

**************

The rest of the week passes without major incident. Charles eats without complaint and even shares an ice cream with him. Before Daniel leaves for Perth, he makes sure Charles apartment is stocked back up. 

“Remember to eat babe.” Daniel releases Charles from the tight embrace he had pulled him into and grabbed the monegasques arms giving him a serious look. “You’ll want to be strong for this next season. Longest one yet”

Charles smiled sweetly. “Don’t worry.” He gave Daniel a quick peck. “See you in Barcelona!” 

Daniel gets into the waiting car but not before giving Charles one last wave. Surely his boyfriend surely is just getting used to living on his own. That had to be it. It had to be. 

**************

Charles really tried to do as he promised. And he succeeded to an extent. There are days he ate three full, nutritious meals. But there are also days that the caloric intake wouldn’t stop running through his head. It didn’t matter if there wasn’t a label. He knows the nutrition values for almost everything in his apartment. Those days consist of long workout sessions and steamed vegetables. During a particularly bad week he has three of those days in a row. The slight ache in his stomach almost becomes routine, and probably wouldn’t have fazed him if it didn’t also happen to be the week that Andrea returned. His trainer was really putting him through his paces. Testing started in only a little over a month. Charles is in the middle of the burpee section of his cardio workout when he feels a bit dizzy, his vision going a bit fuzzy around the edges. He stops for a few seconds to gather his breath, drawing his trainers attention. 

“All right there Charles?” Andrea looks over to where Charles is standing, no, swaying. “We may have gone a little too intense today, huh?” 

Charles tries to wave off his concern. “No no. Je vais bien, ne t'en fais pas.” He drops back down into the push-up form preparing to begin again. Charles launches himself back up into the air but the fatigue he has been battling comes back in an overwhelming wave. Dragging him down and pulling him under into unconsciousness. 

Andrea’s expression of concern changes to one of horror when, instead landing back in the push-up form, Charles drops like a stone, collapsing on the floor, clearly unconscious. 

Charles awakes to his trainer kneeling next to him, a sports drink and protein bar clutched in Andrea’s hand. 

“Oh thank god,” Andrea is clearly relieved to see the monegasque awake. “Come on, let's get you up.” He slowly helps Charles into a sitting position. “Did you eat yet today?” If he had to guess he would say Charles passed out due to his blood sugar levels dropping too low. 

“I had some blueberries” 

Andrea nearly face palmed. The stupid boy. “I left you a nutrition schedule. Haven’t you been following it?”

Charles picks at his fingers. “I just haven’t been hungry” It wasn’t even really a lie. True, the first few days had been rough, the gurgling in his stomach slowly changing to a dull ache. But pretty soon he didn’t even notice it. It wasn’t like he didn’t eat at all. He wasn’t crazy. He just had restraint. Discipline. 

Andrea frowns. Clearly something more was going on with Charles. But he’d figure that out later. “Here,” he brandishes the protein bar. “You need to eat.”

Charles takes it, looking chastised. Andrea was radiating waves of frustration. “Sorry,” he murmured while slowly opening the wrapper. The pair sat in silence for a bit while Charles ate about half the bar. 

“I’ll be good to go in a minute” Charles’ voice alerts Andrea to the monegasque attempting to struggle to his feet. 

Andrea normally appreciated Charles’ determination, the young man never complained during a workout, but right now that trait was causing more harm than good. 

“Absolutely not.” Andrea grabs Charles by the arm. “You’re drinking this,” he shoves a protein shake into Charles’ hand, “And then you’re going to rest.”

Charles nearly blanched when he saw the label on the bottle. 200 calories? For a drink? Andrea’s tone left no room for arguing, however, so he grudgingly drinks the shake. The liquid sits oddly in his empty stomach but he had to admit he did feel better. “Don’t mention this to Ferrari please,” he asks his trainer. Charles didn’t need the Scuderia knowing about this moment of weakness. Not when he was fighting for number one status. 

Andrea is taken aback by the vulnerability in Charles voice. “I won’t. I promise,” he pauses for a moment. “But you might want to start eating more, or they’re gonna have to fit you for a new suit and seat. You’ve lost quite a bit of weight Charles. Weight you didn’t need to lose.” 

Charles had noticed his clothes fitting a little bit looser. He’d just bought several new pairs of jeans a size smaller than normal, his old ones refused to stay up on his naturally narrow hips. When he had gone to Pitti Uomo in Florence, several people, obviously not familiar with the world of f1, had asked if he was a model. Designers had fawned over his defined facial features and slender legs. Charles would never admit it but the compliments made him burn with pride. He wasn’t some bulky, awkward athlete. He felt refined, light and graceful. Like the cars he so adored driving. 

Andrea keeps a close eye on him for the next few weeks but eventually the Italian relaxed, dismissing the weight loss as the result of the twenty-two year old living on his own for the first time. Both Charles and Andrea are fully focussed on preparing for the looming 2020 season, neither had time to dwell on the fainting incident, as Andrea had labeled it in his head. Andrea considera it a temporary compromise. He debatea calling Charles sports psychologist but tucks away the thought for a later time. 

**************

Daniel’s naive hopes that Charles would look healthier than when he left him are dashed as soon as he sees his boyfriend in Barcelona. Charles had clearly lost more weight. Oh he was still beautiful, no doubt about that. But now there’s an edge. With his fluffy hair but aggressive jawline and gaunt cheekbones, he looks like one of those models Daniel saw walking down runways during fashion week. The ones with clothes and faces so beautiful you almost forget about what they sacrificed to fit the designers stringent measurements. Almost.

Normally drivers were at their fittest and lightest during the first few races of the season, having just endured the annual sweat sessions that were pre-season training. While not anywhere near the shortest on the grid at 1.79 meters, the young Ferrari driver was still of small build and didn’t have much weight to lose in the first place. Now, Daniel was willing to bet the twenty-two year old was teetering precariously close to unhealthy loss. 

He isn’t the only driver to have noticed, Max comes up to him while Red Bull is working on the setup of his car. 

“Your boyfriend go on a diet? Looks like he didn’t touch anything besides salad all break”

Daniel scowled. “You could say that..”

Max was taken aback by the Australian’s stormy mood. “Do you think Ferrari asked him to?”

“Fuck, Max, I don’t know.” Daniel sighed. “Maybe they did. Maybe he thinks it will help him secure number one driver status. Maybe he just trained a little too hard.” Honestly, Daniel could absolutely see Charles thinking that dropping what little weight he had to lose would work as some fucked up proof of his dedication. Like the five year contract wasn't proof enough. And, though Daniel was loathe to admit it, the Scuderia was so intensely competitive, political, and generally fucked up that it just might work. 

**************

The Ferrari engineers are ecstatic. Charles weight loss had allowed him to be fitted for a narrower seat and, by extension given them just that little extra room they needed to perfect the balance and aerodynamics of his car. 

Mattia gives him an approving nod and Charles feels himself flush with pride. “Your engineers are quite happy Charles” 

That was putting it lightly. Charles’ team had celebrated like he had just got pole when Charles slipped into his car and hadn’t fit snugly in his seat. “We’re just going to have to get you measured for a new suit and kit. You’ll have it all before Melbourne. Although, probably not during testing.” 

“It’s no problem…” Charles trails off, fidgeting slightly. Mattia is giving him a strange look, like he’s studying a particularly difficult equation.

“We believe in you Charles. Don’t forget that.” 

Charles nodded his thanks and stood up, prepared to make his exit and go find Daniel as the day of testing was nearly over. 

“And Charles?”

Mattia’s voice stops him just as he reaches the door. 

“Try not to lose any more weight. We don’t need you passing out in Australia. There’s a minimum weight requirement for a reason.” 

Charles is unsure of how to respond to that. He settles for nodding before letting the door shut quietly behind him. 

Mattia leans back in his chair and sighs. Yes, he was happy that the engineers were able to push Charles’ car design just a little bit farther. But he was also worried about his driver. Charles had looked absolutely swamped in his racing suit today. A quick call to the seamstress who had taken his measurements today confirmed his suspicions. Charles had lost nearly an inch from his waist, the monegasque plummeting to a minuscule size. Mattia was prepared to call Andrea when a knock on his door distracted him. Mattia tries to put it out of his mind. After all, nothing bad had happened with Charles per se. His performance definitely wasn’t suffering. He’s seen the data from both his drivers. 

“Come in.” Perhaps a professional distraction would be welcome. 

“You were just with Charles, weren’t you?”

Sebastian Vettel enters the room, the German’s arms crossed across his chest. His expression is unreadable. 

Mattia tries not to groan. When he meant a distraction he didn’t mean an argument with his arguably more problematic driver. Although the conversation hasn’t officially been had, Mattia can tell Seb knows it is his last year driving for the Prancing Horse. Tensions were high to say the least. 

“Yes. We were just discussing getting a new racing kit fitted” 

Sebastian plops down in the chair across from Mattia. The polar opposite of the formal and mild mannered monegasque he'd just finished talking to. 

“Did you tell him to go eat some sandwiches? The kid looks one missed meal away from kealing over.”

“I did. He’s not a kid though, Seb.”

The German scoffed. “Please. I know what I was like at that age. Charles still has a lot of growing up to do.”

Mattia bites his tongue to stop himself retorting with a comment about the difference between what Charles had experienced at 22 compared to Seb at 22, let alone 32. Losing a godfather, father, and childhood friend in a span of under five years has understandably taken a toll on the monegasque. Instead of devolving into an argument, Mattia settles for changing the conversation topic. 

“How did the car feel?”

“Less twitchy than last year that’s for sure. Engine sounds better too.”

**************

Charles is brushing his teeth in Daniel’s bathroom when he’s startled by a pair of arms encircling him from behind. Daniel’s arms feel cool against his bare skin and he shivers slightly at the contact. “Can I help you?” Charles asks putting his toothbrush back on the counter and leaning back into his boyfriend's chest. 

“Why yes. I’m looking for a Mr. Charles Leclerc. Five foot ten, fluffy hair, face of an angel, sinful body, looks vaguely like a baby cheetah, maybe you’ve seen him?”

Charles laughs and turns around so that he faces Daniel. He loops his arms around the Australian's neck. “You flatter me Mr. Ricciardo.” He gives Daniel a quick kiss on the lips. “But really? A baby cheetah? Do I want to know?” 

“Fast, dangerous, and adorable. What’s not to like, babe?”

“Absolutely nothing. But if you start calling me kitten I will punch you.” Charles threatened. 

Daniel looks down at Charles’ thin frame. “Oh yes, I’m so scared Mr .Feathers weigh more than me,” the Aussie teases, poking Charles where his ribs protrude slightly.”

His boyfriend caves in on himself, laughing while trying to fend off Daniel’s attacks. Daniel takes it as an opportunity to scoop Charles up in his arms and carry the giggling monegasque into the bedroom where he deposits him on the bed.

Charles looks up adoringly at Daniel from where he lay sprawled on the bed in the plaid pajama pants that his mother so hates. She always texted him disapprovingly whenever she saw a picture of him out in public wearing the pants in question. 

“I love you, you know?” his voice is soft, all teasing gone.

Daniel smiles gently, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend. “Of course I do, my love.” He climbs into bed, pulling back the covers. “Now get under the covers, you silly thing. Before you freeze.”

Charles complies and curls into Daniel’s chest. The weight of Daniel’s muscular arms wrapped around him is comforting and Charles soon falls into a peaceful sleep.

Daniel runs his fingers through Charles hair, trying to ignore the worries running through his mind: How easy it was to pick up Charles. How tiny his boyfriend had looked in his racing suit earlier. He tightens his grip around Charles, the younger drivers small frame radiating a surprising amount of warmth. It’s a _long_ time before he finally falls asleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

Quarantine is hell. Yes, Charles knows he could have it a lot fucking worse but still, life kind of sucked right now. His boyfriend was on the other side of the world. There wasn’t even a chance of him getting in an F1 car for months. And he was locked in his apartment with his trainer.

Andrea had informed him in no uncertain terms that his residence throughout lockdown was nonnegotiable. Charles likes Andrea, he really does. But his trainer’s obligation to keep him healthy and safe clashed with Charles current preference of lying in bed wallowing in a self-concocted stew of sadness, anger, and self-hatred. He doesn’t want to do anything. He doesn’t want to feel anything. And he definitely doesn’t want to eat anything. Charles just wanted to close the door, shut out the world, and pretend this is all a terrible dream and he’ll wake up in Daniel’s arms in some random hotel room a couple days before the Australian GP. 

But it’s not a bad dream. It’s a fucking nightmare, and no matter what Charles does he can’t escape it. He feels useless. And when he feels useless, he gets angry. Streaming with George and Alex helps take the edge off. The two boys were bright and cheery. Literal balls of sunshine. Particularly Alex. Their goofiness reminded him of Daniel a bit. Charles always felt better after streaming with them. The ache in his stomach from laughter overpowered the ever-present gnawing hunger he’d learned to mostly ignore.

Charles had to hand it to Mattia. His team boss sure had good foresight in locking Andrea in with him. Because in-between his daily routine of training, depressive episodes, and occasionally streaming, food was not a priority. Charles’ chat always loved it when Andrea would yell into the room that Charles needed to come eat. For Charles however, those reminders always snapped him from his happy reverie, pulling him back to Earth and his continuous battle with food. The struggle had only gotten worse with the start of the lockdown. Charles had no control over his normal life and routine being snatched away. But he did have control of what he ate. And what he didn’t eat.

Today was a particularly rough day. Charles had somehow known from the moment he woke up that this particular Monday was going to be a not good one. To start off with, it was raining, which meant his and Andrea’s daily run was cancelled. Cursing the shit weather, Charles flopped back down on his bed. No running. No streaming.

Staring at the ceiling until training time rolls around it is. He flicked through his phone for a bit but eventually chucks it away, the deluge of coronavirus updates and speculation too much. Charles can feel a sort of pressure building up inside of him, swirling and surging, like magma before it explodes from a volcano. Unable to decide is he wants to sob or scream, Charles shoves his head under his pillow, holding it tight while tears slowly fell. He didn’t even know why he was crying. God, he was pathetic.

Andrea knocks on his door around two in the afternoon.

“Charles, it’s time for training”

“I’m coming! Almost ready.”

That was a total lie. He was still in his pajama pants and one of Daniel’s oversized t-shirts with the name of a band he’d never heard of plastered across the front.

“No rush Charles. Take your time.”

Charles scowled. Andrea was using that tone. The tone he reserved for when he knew Charles was having one of his not good days. Damn his trainer for being so perceptive.

Training is relatively uneventful. No harder or easier than normal. Charles had scarfed down a blueberry yogurt prior to working out, so any lightheadedness was avoided. Afterwards he took a short shower and wrapped himself up in his fluffy black robe. Walking into his living room, still enveloped in his cloud of black, Charles plopped down onto the sofa and picked up his book on 1970s Ferrari history. Contrary to popular belief Charles wasn’t dumb. In fact, he quite liked learning. A brief smile crosses his face at the idea of how shocked Sebastian will be when Charles no longer fails miserably at all the trivia games they get put through.

In another other room Charles can hear Andrea on a call with his family. A gentle kind of quiet fell over the apartment for the next few hours. The rain continued to fall steadily and Charles found his eyes drooping as it’s drumming steadiness slowly lulled him to sleep. Carefully marking his place and placing the book on the coffee table, Charles burrowed down into the coach, pulling his legs up underneath him. Within minutes he was asleep, the rain drumming steadily in the background.

The smell of cooking pasta and the clatter of pots wakes Charles. Andrea must be making dinner. Charles stomach growls at the thought, reminding him that the only thing he’d eaten today was the blueberry yogurt. It was now near 8. But pasta was heavy. And Charles was in a bad enough mood already. He didn’t need to spend the next several hours grappling with guilt over eating simple carbohydrates. Carrots. Carrots and hummus sound good.

“Andrea,” Charles got up and made his way into the kitchen. His trainer was stirring a pot of Bolognese sauce, a bowl of tortellini sitting on the counter. “I’m not that hungry. I think I’ll just have some carrots.”

“You’re eating some of this pasta, Charles. Your body still needs fuel and energy. I have roasted broccoli too.”

Charles let the fridge door close and skulked over to the table, sitting down and crossing his arms. He probably looked like a petulant child, but he didn’t care. Sometimes Andrea didn’t fight him over his eating habits. Tonight, was obviously not going to be one of those times.

A bowl of pasta and a plate of broccoli was set in front of him. Charles ate the broccoli without complaint. He likes broccoli. Especially when Andrea made it. The Italian seasoned it perfectly.

“It’s good! I like the crispiness.”

Andrea gave him a slight smile, but there was a tightness behind his eyes. “I’m glad. Now how about you try the tortellini?”

Charles stared down at the pile of refined carbs stuffed with cheese. Just looking at it made him feel queasy. But the aroma of the sauce was heavenly. Carefully, so as to get only the rich meat sauce and not the pasta, Charles lifted a forkful of the Bolognese into his mouth.

God, it was perfection. Charles almost moaned at the taste, his eyes falling closed.

“It’s even better with pasta. Just try a bite”

Charles tensed. Why couldn’t the sauce be enough for Andrea. “Maybe I will have some tomorrow. It’s late.”

“You know as well as I do that won’t happen. Please just eat a few bites.” Andrea’s voice rose slightly at the end, the first hint of frustration breaking through.

“I don’t want to!” Charles pushed the bowl away.

“I don’t want to argue with you Charles. Three pieces. Just three.”

Andrea was treating him with kid gloves. Charles was aware he was acting like a toddler, but he hated being talked down to. “I’m not hungry!”

“That’s a damn lie and you know it. You’re starving yourself Charles! I don’t understand it!” Andrea was yelling now. 

Charles slammed his fork down and stood up. “You wouldn’t understand! Just leave me the fuck alone!” He stormed away, not sparing a glance at his trainer he knew was still sitting at the table.

Charles made a beeline for his room, slamming the door shut before collapsing on his bed and breaking down into tears. He felt awful for how he treated Andrea. The man had been through so much with him. The Italian shouldn’t have to deal with how fucked up he was. Charles continued to sob, too tired to stifle his sounds in his pillow. He hated life right now. He couldn’t race, couldn’t see Dan, and couldn’t even handle eating a bite of pasta. God, he wanted his boyfriend now. Who was he kidding? Daniel wouldn’t want to deal with his shit right now. The Australian appeared to be having a wonderful time in Perth. Why would he want to hear about Charles breaking down over something as stupid as food?

Charles’ heart ached. At least he was pretty sure it was his heart. It could be his stomach. The dull, gnawing pain was the same. Charles wrapped his arms tightly around his midsection and curled inward on himself, not bothering to get under the covers, watching his own tears fall until exhaustion overtakes him.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Andrea was left sitting in shock after his charge had stormed out of the kitchen. This was by far the biggest argument he and Charles had ever had.

Recently food had become a source of tension. He should have known pushing Charles to eat when the driver was already in a bad mood was never going to end well. But what was he supposed to do? Let the kid starve? Contrary to what Charles may believe, one cup of reduced fat blueberry yogurt is not acceptable as his daily caloric intake.

If Andrea listened carefully, he could hear the faint sound of Charles crying. He desperately wanted to go comfort the young man but knew the Monegasque needed some space.

Andrea scraped the mostly untouched pasta and sauce into a container and stuck it in the fridge. He hadn’t eaten much, and although had had been hungry earlier, Andrea found he had quite lost his appetite.

Lockdown has been rough for Charles. The normally happy Ferrari driver he worked with had instead been replaced with a moody, anxious, and lonely twenty-two-year-old. The only exception being when Charles was streaming with his chaotic clique of George, Alex, Lando, and sometimes Luca and Arthur. At first Andrea had been a bit disturbed by Charles’ yelling and laughter, but now he had become accustomed to it, the din an oddly comforting background in the otherwise quiet apartment.

The only problem with Charles streaming was his hyper-fixation tendencies. Andrea hates having to drag him away to eat, but he knows if he doesn’t the stupid boy would completely disregard his need for food. Never mind that the others had no problem eating then coming back. George had gone to bake pizza with his family a few weeks ago, according to Charles. When Andrea had suggested they order in a pizza, Charles had fidgeted uncomfortably, before, surprisingly relenting. Andrea should have known it was too good to be true. Charles didn’t even touch the pizza until midnight after he’d finished streaming. Shuffling sheepishly in Charles had grabbed a piece of the now cold remaining pizza and proceeded to pick at it for the next half hour or so, all the while staring out the window with a blank look on his face.

It was in moments like those that Andrea desperately wanted to hug Charles. That empty look scared him. It reminded him too much of what he had privately labeled as Charles ‘funeral face’: a shuttered, closed off expression in which only the Monegasque’s eyes belied a hint of the internal grief and turmoil within. Charles had far too much practice perfecting that expression, in Andrea’s opinion.

That’s why he loved seeing Charles on the podium. Of course, he was glad that Charles did well. But it was really the unrestrained glee that overcame Charles’ body whenever he got to spray champagne in celebration. Andrea was tempted to order a bottle for after the next virtual GP, just to see that joyous expression again.

Andrea allowed that humorous scenario to play through his head as he got ready for bed. Before returning to his bed he pressed an ear to Charles’ door. All was quiet. If Andrea had to guess, the Monegasque had probably cried himself to sleep.

Next morning came much too early in Andrea’s opinion. He half-considered just laying in bed but quickly shook the thought.

There had to be at least one functioning adult in the apartment.

Andrea was very much expecting Charles to sleep till at least ten, so he was quite shocked to see the driver up already. Charles was sitting crossed legged on the couch with a mug of coffee clasped in his hands. He was dressed in one of his many puma sweatshirts, grey joggers, and, to Andrea’s amusement, a pair of obscenely colorful, patterned socks.

“There’s more coffee in the kitchen.”

Andrea jumped. He hadn’t realized Charles noticed he was up.

The driver had turned around to face him. Andrea couldn’t help but notice his sharp cheekbones and tired eyes. With his sweats and messy hair Charles looked more like a university student after a rough night out than a disciplined formula one driver.

Pouring himself a steaming mug of coffee, Andrea leaned back against the counter, his back popping slightly. It was good to see Charles up and about. Andrea always worried when he didn’t emerge until late in the day. But today should be a peaceful one. The sun was out, Charles was awake, and fish was on the menu tonight. Andrea closed his eyes, letting the morning sun wash over him, soaking in the peace.

“Andrea!” Charles voice rang in from the adjoining room. “Do we have any of th—oh, oh shit…”

The sound of a mug clattering to the ground, caused Andrea’s eyes to open in alarm, just in time to see Charles sway once, then slump to the ground.

Swearing loudly, Andrea rushed to where Charles had collapsed. The young driver luckily hadn’t entirely passed out, or if he had he’d already regained consciousness. Gently, Andrea helped Charles sit up, situating him on the floor with his back against the couch. Charles had a hazy, unfocused look in his eyes. The Monegasque clearly wasn’t all there. Andrea pulled a blanket down from the couch and wrapped it around Charles’ shoulders.

“Charles? Can you hear me?” Andrea knelt directly in front of Charles, grabbing one of his hands. He got a shaky nod in response. “What do you need? How can I help you?” Andrea kept his voice level and calm, but on the inside, he was panicking.

“I-I-I think I need to eat.” Charles voice was soft and hesitant, as though he was revealing some dark, shameful secret. Although, Andrea thought, for Charles it probably felt like one.

“That’s ok,” Andrea reassured him. “Just wait here, I’ll be right back.” Andrea hurried into the kitchen. He grabbed some prosciutto, cheese, crackers, and a bottle of water. Fuck vegetables. Right now, Charles needed fat and carbohydrates. When Andrea returned to where he had left Charles, he was relieved to see Charles looked a bit more alert. Andrea settled down on the floor next to his charge, offering the plate of food he had quickly thrown together. Charles grabbed a cracker with a trembling hand and slowly nibbled on it. Immediately after finishing it, he went back for more, this time grabbing some of the meat and cheese. Once the hungry, dull sheen disappeared from Charles’ eyes and he no longer looked on the verge of passing out, Andrea offered him the bottle of water. Charles downed about a third of it before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry, Andrea”

Andrea shook his head. “Don’t apologize. Just eat.”

Charles stared at the piece of cheese he was picking at. “I’m trying.”

“I know you are”

“I’m just…” Charles trailed off.

“You’re what?” Andrea prompted.

“Tired. Tired of all of this.” Charles gestured vaguely around the apartment. But Andrea knew what he meant. Charles thrived off of adrenaline and attention. He was a racing driver. Lockdown must feel like a prison sentence.

“I know.” Andrea murmured, leaning back against the couch and staring at the ceiling. “I know.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ____ 

If you asked Daniel how quarantine was going for him, he’d have to say not too bad. In fact, it was pretty great. He was home, out in the Perth countryside in a with a few of his friends. The only thing he didn’t have was his boyfriend. And yeah, that aspect of lockdown really sucked.

He missed Charles almost as much as he worried about him. The last time he’d seen Charles in person was at the airport before they both went their separate ways. If Daniel could have stopped time with Charles enveloped in his arms, his face buried in the Monegasque’s ridiculously fluffy hair in front of his departure gate, he would have. But alas, he was not magical. So, he was oceans away from the love of his life. Whom, come to think of it, hadn’t replied to any of his calls or texts recently.

“Daniel? His trainer Michael’s voice came from inside the house. “You’re getting a call from Andrea Ferrari.”

At the name, Daniel shot up from his seat on the back porch and rushed to find Michael. His trainer was standing in the open concept kitchen and chopping vegetables. Daniel snatched his still ringing phone from Michael’s outstretched hand, waving away his trainer’s confused look. 

“Is Charles OK?” Daniel didn’t feel like bothering with niceties. Andrea only ever called him if something was wrong with Charles.

“He’s been better.” Daniel could hear Andrea sigh. “We’re working through it.” By it, Daniel knew Andrea meant Charles continuous battle with his inner demons which was currently manifesting itself in his aversion to food.

“Did something happen?” Daniel paced back and forth, wearing a path into the dirt.

“Don’t freak out.”

“I’m already freaking out”

“Yeah I’m sure.” Andrea paused. “Charles passed out today. He hadn’t eaten anything yesterday besides some yogurt. We got in this huge spat over him eating some pasta, and well, you know how it goes.”

Daniel understood. Charles was a people pleaser but there were certain things he wouldn’t budge on. “Has he eaten now?”

“Yeah I got him to eat some crackers with meat and cheese. Nothing too fancy. But I’ll take anything right now.”

Daniel nodded. “Yeah, good. Where is he now?”

“I put on Cars earlier. He’s watching Harry Potter now.”

Daniel could hear the faint sound of the iconic score in the background and he couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes he forgot how young Charles was.

“I didn’t realize he was struggling so much. He seems to be having fun streaming, racing on lawnmowers and all that crazy shit.”

“It’s just about the only thing keeping him happy. It’s a struggle Daniel. Even though they lifted some restrictions, I don’t know how we’re making it to July.”

“It’s less than two months. We can all do this.” Daniel paused for a moment. “Andrea?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you tell him to call me back? It’s been forever since we talked.”

“Of course, I will. Maybe you guys can FaceTime later today. I know it might be getting late but-“

“I don’t care.” Daniel cut him off. “It could be three in the fucking morning and I wouldn’t care.”

“I’m glad Charles has you, Daniel.”

“And I’m glad Charles has you to watch over him. Thank god Mattia made you quarantine with Charles. Thanks for calling, Andrea. I really appreciate it.”

Daniel didn’t even want to think about the trouble Charles would get himself into if his boyfriend had been in lockdown alone in his apartment.

“Not a problem. Hopefully I’ll see you in July. Stay healthy.”

“Yeah you too mate. Bye.” Daniel ended the call and pocketed his phone before running a hand through his unruly curls. He couldn’t say he was particularly surprised by Andrea’s update, but it didn’t make it any easier of a situation to deal with. 

Sinking down to sit on steps down to the pool, Daniel didn’t even have the energy to switch on music, instead choosing to sit in silence lost in thought.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ____ 

The sound of his phone ringing interrupted Charles from his second Potter movie of the day. Charles paused the movie as he dug around in the couch cushions for his phone. Harry was about to battle his dragon and even though he’d seen the movie plenty of times, Charles didn’t want to miss it.

_Daniel would like to FaceTime._

When Charles saw the name on the screen he was immediately hit by a wave of guilt. He’d ignored his boyfriend for over a week. Today so wasn’t his day.  
  


“If you don’t answer that call from Daniel I will not be cooking for a week,” Andrea shouted. “And both of us know you can’t cook. And I will confiscate your yogurt stash.”

Charles sighed. Well, he couldn’t hide forever. He hit the button and was immediately greeted with Daniel’s face.

“Charles!” Daniel sounded relieved. “I wasn’t sure if you would pick up.”

Charles shifted awkwardly. “Yeah. Um. I’ve been busy.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Looks like Alex and George have been keeping you occupied.” There was a tense undertone to his voice. Like he was trying to say something without actually saying it.

The subtext wasn’t lost on Charles. He hated when Daniel wasn’t direct. Yes, he knew he was being a hypocrite.

“What?” Charles joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Getting jealous all the way over there in perfect Australia?”

Daniel bristled. “No. I just want to know why you’ve been able to stream for three hours but not even text me back!”

His boyfriend’s raised voice shocked Charles. He sat there for a moment, mouth open. “I’m sorry,” he finally murmured, staring down at his hands which had started to twist the hem of his sweatshirt without him realizing.

“No! No. I’m sorry,” Daniel said with a deep sigh. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I just miss you. And worry.”

Charles looked back up to meet his boyfriends earnest gaze. “It’s just been hard.” His voice caught on the last word. How was he supposed to explain that his mind, desperate for something to rage against, had chosen his own body? How does he tell Daniel that there are days, where he’ll hide his food during lunch and dinner, so Andrea thinks he ate? How does he tell Daniel he’s a liar? Fucked up in the head. Because Charles can’t lose Daniel. Not when the Australian has shown him what it means to be loved unconditionally. It doesn’t matter to his boyfriend whether Charles wins or loses a race. Or eats pizza instead of salad.

“I’ll love you till the sun goes down. And then I’ll love you till the sun rises.” That’s what Daniel had told him the morning after their first night out in Vegas while curled together in bed. Their clothes were strewn across the floor, light flickering softly through the curtains, and Charles had never been more at peace. How does he tell Daniel that he’s the only ray of light in Charles’ thunderstorm filled head and that Charles’ uneasy sleep is filled with rain, red flags, and the horrible sound of sirens?

“I know, kid. I understand.” Daniel’s voice carried a gravity, almost somber.

Of course, he did. Charles didn’t have to say it. His boyfriend had pieced him back together enough times to know the chaos Charles hid behind his carefully crafted façade. And yet he was still here.

“It’s just,” Charles paused, trying to gather his words. “It’s not always happy in my head.” God, that sounded so childish. But he couldn’t explain the dark, dangerous melancholy of his mental state any better.

“Some days are going to better than others,” Daniel said. “What’s important is that there are good ones.”

Charles appreciated that Daniel didn’t tell him it gets better. He fucking hated that saying. How the hell can you tell someone it gets better when you haven’t lived their life. What was that saying about snowflakes? No two are the same? Yeah, well the same could be said for life’s sorrows. 

He and Daniel talked for awhile longer. Just about silly things. Charles’ never-ending struggle with technology. Daniel’s attempt at shearing a sheep. Eventually, Daniel revealed that Andrea told him about Charles latest episode. Charles couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. He had probably given his trainer an awful scare.

About an hour later, Daniel’s yawns began to punctuate his humorous stories. With a start Charles realized it was nearing one in the morning in Australia.

“It’s probably time for me to head to bed,” Daniel admitted after a particularly long yawn had him rubbing his eyes.

“That’s a good idea.” Charles could feel his throat closing up slightly as a silence fell between them.

“We can talk whenever you want. I promise you won’t annoy me, ok?”

Charles nodded tightly. He’d give anything to be hugged by Daniel right now. Even his Monza trophy. Okay maybe not that. But almost anything.

“I love you.”

Daniel smiled. Not his trademark blinding grin, but a soft upturn of the lips and tilt of the head. An expression of affection he saved only for Charles. “And I love you. From sunrise to sunset. Never forget that.”

Charles wiped a tear away. “I’ll try.”

“Sunrise. Sunset.” Daniel reiterated, before ending the call, leaving Charles to grapple with the deafening silence of his apartment. 

Charles didn’t move from the couch for the rest of the night. Putting Harry Potter on in the background, he watched the sun sink below the horizon and sky fade from blue to purple to black. 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ____ 

“Special delivery for Mr. Charles Leclerc.” Andrea strolled into the kitchen. Charles had just started to grill the chicken they were having for dinner, but quickly turned the heat off.

“It’s from Daniel isn’t it?”

Andrea plopped a box down on table with a smirk. “Who else?”

Charles felt like a kid on Christmas morning, tearing open the packaging. Andrea laughed at his eagerness, so Charles threw some banana printed tissue paper at him. Where did Daniel even find that? His boyfriend was actually a three-year-old.

This first thing to catch his eye is a soft tuft of fur. Further removal of tissue paper reveals a stuffed cheetah with a note taped to its front.

_To my baby cheetah:_

_Love ya, kitten. _

  * _Daniel <3_

Charles was going to murder his boyfriend. After threatening Andrea with physical violence if his trainer ever spoke of the toy, Charles returned to his gifts. Daniel had sent him a pair of banana printed socks with a post it note on top that only read **_;)_**, a loaf of banana bread, and a black Race Service Hoodie that Charles knew was one of his boyfriend’s favorites. At the bottom of the box was an envelope labeled _Read Me Later_.

“You two are unbearably adorable,” Andrea said fondly.

Charles smiled. “I don’t deserve him.”

Andrea bopped him on the head. “Shut up. Yes, you do. Now stop daydreaming about your boyfriend and go finish our chicken.”

Charles rolled his eyes and went back to kitchen, happier than he’d felt in days.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ____ 

Later that night, sitting in bed with Daniel’s sweatshirt next to him, Charles opened the note.

_Charles,_

_Sorry advance if this is cheesy. I’d like to think I’m not a shit writer what with keeping a diary and everything, but I’m no Shakespeare. _

_I hope you know that I miss you. I hope you know that even the sunniest day in Perth is just a bit dimmer because you’re not by my side. Or more accurately, you’re not in the ocean while I scream at you for not paying attention to the do not swim signs. (There are sharks and poisonous jelly fish in Oz, babe) _

_I miss you every day. But especially when I know you’re lost in that head of yours and need someone to pull you back out. It breaks my heart that I can’t hold you in my arms right now. And you can be damn sure, as soon as I’m allowed, I’ll come visit you. (After all, the season should be starting soon.)_

_I baked that banana bread. Michael supervised so I didn’t burn the kitchen down. Who am I kidding? I’m a great cook. Or at least better than you. You can’t debate that Charles. Anyway, I only baked one loaf, so you’re obligated to try it because I need to know how it is. You never know. Maybe I can make my brewery a full restaurant. _

_On a more serious note—it scared me out of my mind when Andrea called about your collapse. You deserve the world Charles. I know you don’t believe me, but you do. So, at the very least, you deserve to eat. If you won’t eat for yourself, or even for me, eat for Ferrari. You’ll need to be strong to fight for that championship, wonder boy. _

_So that brings me to the end, I guess. Since I can’t be there with you, I thought the sweatshirt would help. I almost sent you an old Red Bull one but didn’t think Ferrari would like it. (But could you imagine Max’s face if he saw you in it?) _

_If I don’t see you before Austria, know that I think of you every day. Take care of yourself, kid. Because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. _

_I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. _

_From sunrise, to sunset,_

_Daniel _

Charles tried to stop the tears that dripped down onto the blanket, but the endeavor was fruitless. God damn his stupid, cheesy, boyfriend and his wonderful way with words. He cried for a bit longer, clutching the sweatshirt to his chest, but soon stopped, his body exhausted of both tears and energy.

Charles slipped on the sweatshirt and was immediately hit with the smell of vanilla and sandalwood. It was so undeniably Daniel. If he closed his eyes, Charles could almost trick himself into believing the Australian was there next to him.

Fighting off a fresh wave of tears, Charles curled up under the covers. Before he knew it, he was asleep; the comforting weight of his cocoon pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, sorry for such a long wait. Finally finished my exams and papers for university so I'll definitely be writing more.  
Lockdown has been an.....experience. Lots of ups and downs. So you get this 5K word chapter.  
If you want to cry about how adorable Daniel and Charles are, or just yell at me for being mean to this chaotic sweet Twitch child, you can find me at special-formula on Tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> Well that was a ride. This is an issue I grapple with in real life so this was semi-therapeutic for me. (Don't worry I'm doing fine!) Let me know if I should continue. I think I might. Come talk to me at special-formula on tumblr! 
> 
> XX


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